


After a Long, Lazy Day

by TheQueen



Series: When Scientist Became Synonymous With Hero [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Episode: e035 Lazy Day, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil comes home after a lazy day in Night Vale.</p><p>*can be read alone*</p>
            </blockquote>





	After a Long, Lazy Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [circa1220bce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circa1220bce/gifts).



Killing the engine in front of their six-story shared apartment complex, Cecil ambled out of his car and gave a lazy wave to Philip, the three-headed water dragon who had been hired as the new doorman for Oasis apartments just a few weeks earlier, with the same slow, relaxed gait that had characterized the last few hours of Night Vale. And the same gait that prompted Carlos to "tsk" disapprovingly over his poor sleeping habits that very morning. In reply, Cecil had rolled his eyes and reminded Carlos of his equally poor habit of falling asleep in front of the television after dinner watching EXTREME Races Around the World just before dozing off at the table, a fork full of eggs hanging precariously halfway between the plate and his mouth.

Of course, now Cecil knew that the aching sort of tiredness that had weighed on him had not been caused by his sleeping schedule but rather by some sick cosmic gift, as all cosmic gifts are known to be. You know…if you believed in the that sort of thing. But what with the Scientists on break, Cecil supposed Night Vale probably wasn't going to be getting another answer, even if it wanted one. And an answer you didn't completely believe in was rather comforting in comparison to the knowledge that some things just didn't have an answer. At least for some people. Cecil, after all these years as the radio broadcaster, was still debating which one he preferred.

After swiping his key card and pressing the correct sequence to disable the security measures and bring down the correct elevator, Cecil just sort of slumped against the wall and allowed his head to bow and lie calmly against his shoulder. Slowly, he could feel his energy, energy sapped from his body the moment he opened his eyes, return at a snail's pace, if the snail in question was taking its time to smell the proverbial (or perhaps real) roses on its way to a place it rather dearly hated. And the yawn that passed his lips cracked his face nearly in two so by the time the correct elevator arrived, every being in Cecil's body, every atom and space between atoms longed to curl up in bed or on the coach (wherever Carlos was) and take a nice long nap only to wake up at three in the morning to make dinner and laugh when Carlos stumbled into the kitchen at the smell of food and the promise of the newest Arrow episode.

Stumbling inside, he slide to the floor and craned his head up to watch the numbers above the door blink in time with the elevator's ascendance while his thoughts wandered past the elevator to his front door and past his front door to the love of his life, whether he be on the coach or the bedroom, snoring softly under his breath in a sort of purr-ish manner, curled up in a ball that, Cecil knew, the minute he slipped into bed would transform into a human octopus that would not let go until Carlos was at the precarious edge of consciousness. His hair would be spread across the pillow, peaks of thick, black hair, peaks that would later transform into a nest upon waking and making Carlos curse with such a passion that Cecil had not heard since Old Woman Josie bowled three splits at the champion game a few years ago. And Jefferson would have to poke his mask through the window and remind Carlos that seven of those words were strictly banned, but he wouldn't mean it because at this point it was a good routine. Carlos, Cecil chuckled as the light blinked 6 and the doors slid open, would feel rather bad about it until he finally made Jefferson a Scientist's secret family recipe for amazing seven layer chocolate cake in apology.

Getting up with a  groan and the help of those bar-thingies in the elevator, Cecil pushed himself out of the elevator and sorta limped to his door (605) thanks to his leg shooting metaphorical pins and needles (he had checked). Cecil slid the key into the lock after a few trys and opened it with a satisfying click. Pushing it open, though, required more energy than Cecil had to give and just as he was sure his face was going to make contact with the adorable welcome mat Carlos had picked out (it had a little puppy and kitty greeting you, so cute!) when a pair of familiar arms caught him and pulled him up. "Honey, I'm home," Cecil joked, keeping his eyes closed and snuggling closer.

"Jefferson told me you were barely making it to the door," the scientist replied, staggering a little under Cecil's weight. "Come on, let's put you to bed."

Cecil hummed noncommittally and allowed his boyfriend to drag him inside. "So," the radio host slurred. "How was your day?"


End file.
